Good Girls Played with Dolls
by Mischievous.Eyes.9
Summary: She decided to give her and Jimmy's baby away. She was too young to be a mother, but she was older now, and part of her wished she could see her daughter again. She just never thought her wish would come true.
1. Mommy Dearest

_**Good Girls Played with Dolls**_

**Chapter One:**

**Mommy Dearest**

**

* * *

**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, simple as that.

**A/N: **This is based off of a challenge from the Chocolate Covered Strawberries Challenge Board, written by Gidgetgirl, called "The Birth Family Challenge."

* * *

**November 13, 1986**

_A few more hours, she told herself, a few more hours._

_Nine months had slowly whittled down to a few hours and she was glad. In Newport Beach, the summer after graduation was one big party - actually - in Newport everything was one big party. And while Kirsten Nichol wasn't a partier it was a rite of passage. A rite of passage she had missed, and for what?_

_It wasn't as if she didn't like children. She found them to be cute, adorable, all those fluffy little words, but she wasn't ready to be a mother. She knew that. Her mother knew that. Six months ago, she was going to take the easy way out, she was going to nip this whole thing in the bud. She went to the clinic, put on the cheap gown they provided her, and realized that she couldn't go through with it. She wasn't a devote Christian or anything, she frankly didn't care about abortion, she was pro-choice, despite her generally conservative views. But at that moment, she felt selfish. She wasn't ready to be a mother, but out there someone was, and she could be their saving grace._

_It was her mother's plan that kept her from away from Orange County's scrutiny. Her mother's carefully calculated scheme. She postponed Berkley one semester. Her father thought she was out exploring the world, experiencing life outside the southern California bubble, but her mother knew better. She was at their vacation house in Cape Cod, waiting to purge herself of her sins._

_Jimmy Cooper was probably living it up with some USC slut, and she was in some tiny hospital wearing a gown that barely covered her protruding stomach. This was not how things were supposed to be happening. She didn't want to give birth. She didn't want to be in a place where there was snow on the ground. She just wanted to go home. She sighed, this was her fault, she was a liar. A wave of pain attacked her. Another contraction._

_A few more hours, she repeated, tears flowing down her cheeks._

_

* * *

_

**January 2005, The Present**

When she found out about Lindsay, she flipped out. It was as simple as that. Her rich father, who rarely had good taste in women, cheated on her mother and produced a Nichol heir as old as her son. Each time she played it in her head, it sounded less ridiculous, but even still, this was not a one o'clock soap opera, this was her life.

She had spent her whole life under the impression that she was one of two. She had spent her life under the impression that her younger, screw-up sister was her only sibling, but when that Chrismukkah secret came out, a whole can of worms was unleashed. How many affairs had her father had? How many possible half siblings could she have? She probably shouldn't have worked herself up over it, but it seemed like a legitimate question.

Not too long ago, her son had taken little Lindsay Gardner on a date, and thankfully things got switched around, but what if they hadn't? How could you tell your son that he was swapping spit with a blood relative? Now it was her foster son's turn to date the girl, her sister, and while that was fine, it still reminded her Julie Cooper and Riverside.

She couldn't help but be scared for the future. What if her son fell for one of Caleb Nichol's bastard children, or better yet, what if her son fell for the daughter she had given up? That's what it all probably boiled down to, the child she had given to someone else. The child that haunted her everyday. Her father was a liar, there was no question about that, but was she any better?

She took a sip from her chardonnay; she knew she shouldn't have let them place her in her arms.

* * *

_All her life she had heard so many bad things about epidurals that she almost felt like less of a woman. She let them stick that giant needle into her spine and she was glad because even with the drug it still felt like she was in a horror movie. Small cramped delivery room, fluorescent lights, all by herself. The doctors kept telling her that she was doing good, that everything was all right, but it wasn't. Nothing was right._

_They told her congratulations, it was a beautiful baby girl. And that was the plan. In Jimmy Cooper's detailed map of their lives, they had a girl first, and a boy second. He was right. Why was he always right?_

_She felt woozy, she wanted to go to sleep, she wanted to walk away, she wanted to practice the lies she was going to tell her father. According to her postcards, she was in Italy right know, hanging out with some guy named Fabio. Stupid romance novels._

_Everything was in suspended motion. They were washing off the little girl, her little girl, who was soon going to be someone else's. She hadn't met them, but she hoped they would be good parents. You were supposed to get qualified parents through adoption, weren't you?_

_When the doctor finally came back, it felt like it had been hours. "It's a beautiful baby girl," he repeated. "Well done."_

"_Do you want to hold her?" A petite nurse asked, she didn't remember this nurse, maybe it was the drugs. Maybe it was the fact that she was trying to repress this memory even before it became that._

"_I don't." She stammered, "I, um, can't. I."_

"_Come on," the nurse said with a smile. "It makes it worth it."_

_She rolled her eyes at the comment. Her hands were sweaty, her body was shaking, and her hair was sticking to her forehead, and for what? Yet, for some reason, when the woman said worth Kirsten's arms unfolded and within a second the child was in them._

_Her eyes opened, small and new. Dark brown, like Jimmy's, like her mother's. She stared in them, trying to suppress a smile. Trying not to make the situation any harder, but it was too late, she was in love, and she didn't want to let go._

_

* * *

_

Good girls played with dolls.

Good girls had mothers who cared about them.

Good girls had people watching after them, people they could trust.

Maybe that's why Faith wasn't a good girl. She was nineteen years old: motherless, fatherless, watcher less. Nineteen and she had no one she could truly call a friend and certainly no place she could call home.

When their mother's died, good girls became emotional. When her mother died, she remained apathetic. Sixteen years of abuse ended. Her mother's drunken stupor finally lured her to eternal slumber and she should have been free. She should have been free to do anything. For once it should have been sunshine and rainbows.

Adoption was supposed to be a process that gave innocent children good homes. Adoption was supposed to take children from their shitty households and give them shiny new parents. Not the other way around. Maybe she was just cursed, because foster children were supposed to be slapped around. It was sad to say, but it was excepted. The goal was to beat the system and she did just that. She beat the system, in fact she bypassed the system, she got shiny new parents; at least they must have seemed it. In reality, they were dull, bruised apples.

At her mother's funeral she met the woman that would change her life, her watcher, the only person she knew cared about her. And like everything else, that got screwed up, that got tossed away, and that emotion, compassion, was locked away with it. The day she became the slayer, was the same day she found out she wasn't a Lehane. She had a mother somewhere, probably a real mother, a good mother. No one was cursed to have two horrendous mothers, were they? At the time it didn't matter because she had Diane, she had a mother-figure, but she screwed that up, she screwed everything up. Why did she have to be the slayer?

Buffy Summers had it all: the mother, the friends, the perfect suburban house. When Faith slayed in Boston she was a lone wolf, a wildcard. Buffy on the other hand had a routine and people to help out. Sometimes Faith couldn't help but think if she was B., Kakistos wouldn't have killed her favorite Harvard grad. Sure, she was badass, but Buffy had people who remembered her name, people who were a phone call away.

In Sunnydale, Xander Harris was the Zeppo, so what did that make her? She certainly wasn't Groucho. She wasn't really anyone. They had their circle and she wasn't a part of it, she didn't fit. She tried to, but she didn't. They laughed at her stories, some true and some false, but she was different from them, a different that didn't click in quite yet.

She grabbed her duffel bag from the curb. She looked at the sign greeting her and the lightly colored sand behind it. Newport Beach, it proclaimed. Beautiful women pranced around in bikinis and men fondled them. Chivalry was dead. She probably didn't belong here either.

She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her back pocket. Kirsten Nichol was crossed out and Kirsten Cohen was written in its place.

"Hello Mommy Dearest," She muttered.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hopefully you got that this was an OC/BTVS cross. I read the challenge and I couldn't resist. I promise that this won't be a hard read if you've never seen BTVS (Buffy the Vampire Slayer). This story takes place in season 2 of The OC around The Power of Love and in season 3 of Buffy until The Zeppo. Which is before Faith went "bad."

If you know Buffy and you know The OC, then you know that dates are screwy in this. Season 3 of Buffy was 1998 - 1999. Whereas season 2 of The OC was 2004 - 2005. Frankly, the dates aren't pivotal to either series, so I went the main series for this story, which is The OC.

People generally think that Buffy is the older slayer, but that was never officially said, so I made Faith older for the sake of the story. Which makes Faith nineteen and Seth sixteen going on seventeen, which works in the context of the show, believe me I tried desperately to make it work in my head. No easy feat.

Anyway, thank you for reading, I hope that you will review, even if it's two words. I'll take what I can get. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them. If you have any ideas or opinions, I will read them and possibly take them into consideration. Thanks a lot!

* * *


	2. A Telenovela Indeed

* * *

_**Good Girls Played with Dolls**_

**Chapter Two:**

**A Telenovela Indeed**

**

* * *

**

"_Faith." Someone called, she could barely hear them. The hallway was crowded, it was the third day of school, the first real day of sixth grade, and she couldn't be more thrilled. School was her escape. School was a place where no fathers could leave her. School was a place where she'd never see empty alcohol bottles._

_Once, when her father still came to visit, he took her to pick up his niece. That wasn't, of course, what he said they were going to do. He told her he was going to take her to see the Red Sox play. He told her they were going to see Clemens in action. The closest they came to Fenway Park was the Winsor school. That was the school that her mom said, "All the rich bitches went to." The girls, her mom would mutter about under her vodka scented breath, all wore expensive looking clothes and had sophisticated haircuts she had only seen on the covers of magazines. Her "cousin" was no exception._

_The main hall was pristine. She could have stared at it for hours. While her father walked ahead, she snuck a look in one of the classrooms. It was as big her house and the floors sparkled. It was mesmerizing. Even if she were blind she would have sensed what she was missing; the place smelled rich._

_When he dropped her off that night, he apologized. "My brother's helping me out. He's getting me a job, a real job, the type of job I used to have. Before, you know? I just had to do this for him. I'm sorry. I got your hopes up, I shouldn't have, but if I can get this job, you know, maybe I can come home, and we can be a family again. I promise then we'll go see all the games you want." The look in his eyes made her forget who was talking to her. Despite her better knowledge, she believed him. He was going to get a job and come home. He was going to make her mom stop. That's what dads were for._

_That was second grade. She was seven and hopeful. Her dad was going to be her hero. Her father was going to whisk her away to baseball games._

_She only saw him once more after that._

_She played with the rusty yellow locker door. It creaked. The place smelled like ammonia. No one would ever mistake this for the Winsor school. She pushed her old ratty sneakers into the ground, and looked at the trio of blondes walking toward her._

"_Ms. Watson, wanted us to tell you that next Wednesday is 'Take Your Daughter to Work Day.' The tallest of the girls said. "Your mom didn't reply to the letter. She needs to talk to you after class."_

"_My mom's taking me to her desk at the Globe." The smallest girl piped up._

"_My dad's gonna let me work the counter at his butcher shop."_

"_My dad's going to let me spend the whole day trying on clothes at the Macys he works at. It's going to be a blast." The tall girl smirked. "But don't worry Faith, I'm sure there's a relative out there who'd let you spend the day with them. I mean what with your mom not having a real job and your dad missing in action." She pushed her hand into a locker. The paint was peeling. "So yeah, anyway, don't forget to talk to Ms. Watson after class."_

"_I won't." She said softly. She hated blonde girls. She hated new, clean clothes and perfectly styled hair. When they walked on, she looked down at herself. Her blue shirt had unraveling strings. There were holes in the bottom seam. Her jeans had stains that she couldn't account for. Stains that couldn't be removed. Standing there, in that sea of people. She felt like a bum. She felt small. She felt invisible. For Faith, everyday was a fight to be visible. Everyday was a fight to be seen as something more then an anger outlet, a punching bag. She didn't need school to be the same way. "Stupid salvation army," she cursed silently, shaking her head._

"_Faith." She heard out of the corner of her ear once more. She turned and put the name with the face. It was Michael Lesley. His skin was the same shade as a mighty African warrior, but he was small and meek. He lived down the street, and yet, he never talked to her. He rarely acknowledged her existence. She smiled. He walked over to her and patted her on the back. "Don't feel bad. We're not part of that world, and that's probably a good thing."_

_

* * *

  
_

She didn't belong here. She didn't belong in this damn Bronze knockoff, with the wannabe cast of 90210. Where she came from ordering a fojito would be blasphemous, here it was all she heard. This was the trendy spot. This was the spot where dumb blonde bimbos spent their time. She had almost forgotten how much she hated blondes.

She stared out onto the stage, some obscure indie band plucked the strings of electric guitars. Girls in Abercrombie and Marc Jacobs bobbed up and down. They probably had no idea what the band's name was, and they probably didn't care. She scoffed.

"Overwhelming?" Alex asked her, trying to make her voice loud enough to be heard against the booming of the speakers.

Faith shrugged. She pointed out into the crowd. "That girl's pants cost more then it cost to rent the house I grew up in." Alex laughed, if it was an uncomfortable laugh, Faith couldn't tell. "Though, that probably isn't hard."

She had escaped Sunnydale. She had left little Buffy Summers and that world behind, yet everywhere she went, it was as though they were following her. She bent down to dry out a clean glass and, when she looked up, a skinny boy with a Jew fro was standing before her. He gave off the same vibes as Xander Harris. "What can I get ya?"

Alex nudged her. "I've got this." She ran a hand through her blonde hair. "I thought you were going to meet me later."

"I'm kind of under lock and key right now." He informed her. "I just got permission to come and ask you if you'd like to join the big Cohen extravaganza."

"Cohen extravaganza?" She asked raising an eyebrow.

He nodded. "Friday night. Catered food, nice dresses, and all the family hostility you can handle."

"As fun as that sounds, I have to go out of town on Friday."

"Where?"

"Just out." She said softly. He stared at her for a moment and then awkwardly put his hands into his pant's pockets. He wasn't happy. "I've got my own family business to attend to." She eventually added.

"I see."

"Yeah. Look, the place is really busy right now. I've got things to do. Call me later, I mean if your phone isn't locked away." She said, puling her hair into a ponytail. "Oh." She bit her lip and looked at the brunette next to her. "Cohen this is Faith. Faith this is Seth Cohen. If you need anything, I'm sure she'd be willing to help."

"Seth Cohen." Faith repeated as Alex walked off. "As in Kirsten Cohen, as in Caleb Nichol, as in the guy who owns half the town?"

"Yeah." Seth rubbed his feet into the floor. "That'd be my lineage."

"Your grandfather owns most of Richville, that has got to be exciting."

"You could say that," Seth smirked.

"It has to have its perks at least."

"Not so much." He said softly.

"Says the kid from Newport Beach." She put a shot glass down on the bar. "You've got more perks than I ever had growing up."

"Are you from Chino too?" He joked.

"No. South Boston."

"Scorsese's making a movie set in South Boston." He paused. "Another Japanese remake."

"Sounds about right." She muttered, picking up a bottle of golden brown liquid.

"Really though, living here isn't all it's cracked up about."

"I'm sure." She said sarcastically, pouring the liquid into the glass

"I can prove it. Be my guest at dinner on Friday and you'll see a regular telenovela."

Faith ran a finger across the bar. "I'd like that." She handed him the shot glass. "To the good life," she toasted.

"I shouldn't."

She shifted her gaze around the room and then leaned in. "I won't tell."

He let the liquid pour down his throat and coughed as it made its way to his stomach. "I'll pick you up here at seven." She saluted him and watched as he walked off.

She put the whiskey bottle back under the counter. "A Telenovela indeed." She said softly.

* * *

_The leaves fell off the trees. Each yard she passed had a layer of red and orange sprinkled on it. She passed her own yard and frowned. She could barely call it a yard, all it was was a small patch of grass, and the grass there had was dead. They needed to rake. They need sod and sprinklers. They needed a lawn mower, and they were never going to get any of it._

_She could imagine the barren living room. She could imagine the empty fridge. She could imagine the long row of liquor bottles. She could imagine her mother's latest boyfriend walking around in boxers. She could practically hear all the fake promises._

"_I'm going to help your mother."_

"_I'm going to save your family."_

"_I'm going to get a real job."_

"_We'll be a real family."_

_The words haunted her mind. It was all bullshit. It was an endless array of bullshit. She had just entered eighth grade, that meant only five more years, five more years, and she'd be free. She'd be free to disappear._

_When she met Michael, the world started moving faster. She had an escape. They hung out in his basement, they wasted hours on end. When his father drank, they hid down there. When her mother drank, they hid down there. They hid together. They played games and watched movies, they pretended they were normal. What was normal anyway?_

_Compared to hers, his house was a mansion. Two stories. Four bedrooms. Just as barren. Slightly more clean, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that there were nooks. There were crannies. There were places to be invisible and one person who was always aware that she existed._

_She saw the house first. The sheets in the windows. The old oak door. That's all she wanted to see. She closed her eyes and pretended she couldn't see the yellow tape. She pretended she didn't see the police car. She pretended she didn't see the ambulance. She pretended that everything was normal. She needed consistency for once. She needed something good and even though she knew nothing was okay, even though she knew nothing would be right, she pretended._

_She turned in the opposite direction, hummed the last song she had heard on the radio, and tried desperately not to break down in tears._

_

* * *

_

**Reviews?**

Thank you Faulty Cameras! Thank you very much.

* * *


	3. About Her

* * *

_**Good Girls Played with Dolls**_

**Chapter Three:**

**About Her**

* * *

_She tapped her foot against the hard hospital mattress. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to school. She wanted to hold her son in her arms in the real world. The IV made her arm itch. The TV had too much static. The morning nurse spoke to her like she was five._

_He looked at her from across the room. He watched her hand shake. He watched her fidget. He watched her toes move up and down. "What's wrong?"_

"_I can't just sit here." She told him. "I can't just sit here confined to this bed."_

"_You're not confined to the bed," he said, standing up._

"_You know what I mean. Confined to this bed. Confined to this hospital." She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "It's all the same."_

"_Come on, lets go see our son." Sandy suggested, grabbing his wife by the hand._

_She shook her head. "It's not real." She told him. "It's not real until we take him home. I can't become attached until we take him home."_

"_What's going to happen?" He stared at her intently. "He's perfectly healthy. What's going to happen between now and tomorrow morning?"_

_She tugged at the flesh of her cheek. "You just never know."_

_He took a seat on the edge of her bed and put his hand over hers. "Yesterday, you were going to tell me something about you and Jimmy Cooper…"_

"_About that," she began, desperate not have this conversation with him. She loved him, but some secrets were hers and hers alone._

"_Shh." He demanded, "I promise to never bring that up again. I promise never to ask you to tell me what you were so keen on telling me yesterday night." He squeezed her hand. "I just want you to come visit our son with me." He moved the hair from in front of her eyes, "This is real."_

_She looked down at her stomach. He was right. Part of her wished he wasn't, because if this was real that meant her first child wasn't._

_

* * *

_

Her pores felt wide-open. She was wearing too much make-up, she felt like a floozy; one of those new Barbie dolls. She pressed her hands against the rough exterior of the building. Why was she doing this? Did she take some sort of sick pleasure in destroying peoples' lives? Did others have to suffer just because she had suffered?

She tried not to think in such negative terms, but that's how they were going to see it. The vengeful bastard put up for adoption, back to avenge her crappy childhood. All she wanted was to meet her real mother, but it was never that simple. It could never be that simple.

He walked toward her, her brother. Her half brother, a dark mess of hair. What would he think? "You look very nice." He told her.

Fuck it. It didn't matter. She didn't care what he thought. She didn't care what they thought. She was doing this for her. She was doing this for the sake of her sanity. "You said nice dresses. This is the nicest dress I could come up with."

"You'll fit quite nicely into our soap opera," he told her. "Come on, we have to get to the harbor."

"The harbor?" She asked, "As in the place where the boats are? We're going out onto the water?"

"No, we're going onto a boat, but we're not going to take it out."

"Then what's the point of having it on a boat?"

He shrugged. "Welcome to the crazy life."

* * *

_She opened the door quietly and headed toward her room. Her mother was passed out on the couch, a layer of old newspapers littered the ground. Her hand clutched a dark green bottle._

_She tiptoed across the room. The bottle fell. "What are you doing here?" Her mother mumbled, her eyes opening slowly._

"_I live here." Faith said quietly, pushing her backpack farther onto her shoulder._

"_Don't use that tone with me, missy. I give you food, clothing, shelter; don't you dare use that tone with me." Faith looked down at herself, felt the bones that protruded through her skin, and sighed. "Aren't you usually out with that black boy right about now?"_

"_He's in the hospital." She mumbled. "Family issues."_

"_I knew those people were bad influences." Her mother looked at her seriously. "Be quiet in your room. Jonathon's here, he doesn't need to know you are too."_

_Faith rolled her eyes. "I'm the one that lives here."_

"_Yeah, but he's got a stable job and a classic car. What do you have to offer me?" He mother turned on the television. Faith continued walking. "Your father was the one who wanted you. I didn't, but he never listened to me."_

"_Maybe I should just go live with him."_

_Her mother scoffed. "Good luck finding him." She laughed, "He hasn't paid child support in years. You think he still wants you?"_

"_You never know," she shoved her hands into her pockets._

"_Way to keep the faith." She played with the remote. "Get me a beer, would ya?"_

"_Yes, mommy dearest." Faith said under her breath, turning toward the refrigerator._

_

* * *

_

She looked across the room, clutching the wine glass in her hand. She pressed her soft skin into the stem. She had a feeling in her gut, a bad feeling. That girl her son had brought to the party gave off an eerie vibe. What had happened in the last few months? What had happened to nice little Summer Roberts?

"She looks familiar, Kiki," her father said. "She looks really familiar."

"That she does." She let the burgundy liquid ease down her throat.

"Where'd he find her?"

"The bait shop," she said softly. "She works with Alex."

"The troublemaker."

"The troublemaker." She agreed. "There's something about her that I don't trust. Look at her."

"She seems happy."

"Exactly, she's all smiles, but there's something behind that grin. Something mischievous." She shook her head. "I don't trust her at all."

* * *

_The nurse looked at her. Her eyes had a sad, sympathetic glare to them. "He doesn't know does he?"_

_The words shook Kirsten to her core. What was this nurse getting at? She sat up and looked her straight in the eye. "Doesn't know what?"_

_The nurse shook her head. "Never mind." She bit her lip. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm new at this. I've got a tendency to talk out of my ass."_

"_Doesn't know what?" Kirsten repeated, eyes wide._

"_About your pregnancy," she said quietly. "About your other pregnancy."_

"_I don't know what you're talking about." She shook her head. "What gave you that impression?"_

"_Just an assumption." She shrugged, "I've been there. Sixteen, stupid, gave the kid up, hardest thing I ever had to do. When I had my next one, I was twenty-one, and I felt awful. All the other mothers were happy, but there was sadness in my eyes. You've got the same sadness."_

"_I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_Sorry." She looked at her timidly. "Like I said I have a tendency to speak out of my ass." She headed toward the door._

_Kirsten played with hair. "Is it supposed to hurt this bad? Could you feel your heart breaking and at the same time know that you were supposed to be happy?"_

"_Yeah. That's exactly how it felt." She tapped the clipboard in her hand against her leg. "Guilt is deadly. You can't let it consume you."_

_

* * *

_

Sandy looked at his wife. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don't know how I feel about her." Kirsten said quietly, almost ashamed of the words coming out of her mouth.

"She's here for one party. That's not exactly a marriage proposal, besides they're not even dating." Sandy told her. "She seems nice enough."

"It's not a case of being nice." She told him. "She's hiding something."

"There's only one person you can talk to about this."

She nodded in agreement. "Seth!" She yelled.

"That's not who I meant," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

_Rage. Extreme anger. That was key. That was the key to slaying. You had to invoke the thing that ripped your mind apart with fury. She lifted a leg up. She practiced her roundhouse kick. She pounded her hand into a red punching bag._

_The woman on her right cheered her on. The woman on her right gave her constructive criticism. Criticism on form and function. Without her, she'd be crazy. She'd be rouge. Anger was the key to slaying, but when you had an abundance of pent up anger, how could you manage to stay in control?_

_With Diane around, that didn't matter. Diane kept her in control. Diane made her forget that her dad no longer wanted her. Diane made her forget that her mom had kept her down, had made her weak. She could invoke that anger, but it did not consume her. It could not destroy her._

_She could only fear for a future without the stability of her watcher._

_

* * *

_

Did they think she couldn't hear them? Did they think she couldn't hear the way they questioned her purpose there? She played with her black hair and looked wearily at the ringleader. Blonde, gorgeous, her mother. She was right. She was destroying a celebration and she hadn't even said anything. Not that it mattered, this wasn't about them. This was about her.

She took the stairs to the top deck. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm not here to ruin your son. I don't want to bring him down to 'my level,' whatever that means." She paused. "Besides, he doesn't even like me. He either likes Bi-Blondie or the Queen of Sparkles. I can't tell anymore."

"Then why are you here?"

"To get a glimpse at a real life telenovela."

Kirsten glared at her. "Why are you really here?"

Faith sighed. "When I was a little kid all I wanted was a dog. You know, something I could call my own. Something I could love, but you see, mom was too busy boozing it up. She didn't have time to worry about fluffy animals. Hell, she didn't even have time to worry about me.

"And then I got a little older and they buried her six feet under and I was free, because there was no way I was going to let them put me in foster care." She bit her lip. "Turns out the sociopath that raised me, really had no claim over me. She wasn't my real mother and after that, all I wanted was a mother.

"You know someone to rub my stomach when I was sick. Someone to kiss away the pain. Someone who could do all the things no one did for me growing up." Faith said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"What does this have to do with us?" Sandy asked.

Kirsten sunk down into a chair and closed her eyes.

Faith pointed to the blonde. "You seem like a good mother." She shook her head. "I thought. I just thought." Her neck moved from side to side once again. "I shouldn't have come here."

"Why not?" Kirsten said sadly.

"Forget it. It's not the right time." She sifted her eyes around the populated deck.

"Forget about them." Kirsten told her. "Why not?"

"I thought it'd give me closure." Faith said softly. "I just wanted to meet the woman I wasn't good enough for. I figured she'd be a disappointment. I hoped she'd make me feel good about myself."

"And?" Kirsten questioned.

"You're not a disappointment." Faith told her. "Look. I won't bother you. I just had to see you for myself." She turned towards the stairs. "I don't expect anything."

Kirsten sat paralyzed in her chair. Her mouth didn't move. Her eyes looked straight ahead. She could see their mouths moving. She could see questions form, but all she heard was, "Your mother. She looks like your mother."

For once her dad was right, her and Jimmy's child was the spiting image of her mother.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

In the first chapter, I wrote about Kirsten being an only child. I recently remembered Hailey, so that has been fixed. Major oops on my part.

Anyway, thanks for your reviews. Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter. I have a tendency to stretch things out, but for this story, I thought it was appropriate to make this little reunion happen as soon as possible.

Was it okay? Comments? Thoughts? Suggestions?

Thanks a lot to everyone who reviewed. Please keep them coming.

Faulty Cameras: Yes, I do intend to bring some Scoobies to Newport.

* * *


	4. Crazy Secret Keeper

* * *

_**Good Girls Played with Dolls**_

**Chapter Four:**

**Kirsten Cohen: Crazy Secret Keeper**

**

* * *

**

He pushed his thumbs into a PlayStation controller. He was half awake, floating in a limbo between energy and lethargy. Every few minutes his eyes would snap shut, hoping that he'd take the hint and go lie in his plush bed, but he didn't. His feet never touched the ground. He never laid eyes on those hardwood stairs. "I thought she was attractive. Is that weird Ryan? When I saw her standing there with Alex all I could think was, 'Holy crap! She's hot.' And she was, I mean, she is, but…" Seth rambled, attacking his opponent with a blunt object.

"She's your sister." Ryan interjected, on screen his character countered. Seth nodded. "And you're not supposed to think your sister is attractive."

"Hasn't been okay since biblical times." Seth replied, hands moving frantically. "With the exception of that whole Dollanganger gang."

"Well they were trapped in an attic, not a lot of options." Ryan scratched his head. "Though I'm pretty sure it's okay to think she's attractive as long as you don't do anything about it."

"Not helping."

"Maybe you should be more concerned with your mother and less concerned with your sister."

"I can't think about her. Unlike you, my mom's always been a rock. It's a little hard to think about her, you know, losing her mind." Ryan raised an eyebrow. "She hasn't left her room in three days, I think that constitutes as a lapse in sanity."

"She gave a child up for adoption." Ryan lowered his voice, "Can't be easy."

"I know. I get it. I completely understand. I just. I've spent my whole life believing that I'm an only child. I'm the spoiled little baby whose parents coddled him to the point of social incompetence and I've finally excepted that. But that wasn't good enough for the cosmos, no, I finally get used to things and then, at sixteen, it comes out that it's all been a lie. It's not like Dad brought her home. No, mom slept with Jimmy Cooper, got pregnant, and has been lying ever sense." Seth raised his hands in the air in triumph. "It just seems out of character."

"Is that my head in your hands?"

"It is." He stood up and did a victory dance. "A year and a half and you haven't learned to play with the big dogs."

"And you haven't learned to dance."

Seth dropped his controller and fell back onto the couch with a thud. "Maybe we should just invest in those wife beaters you seem to love so much."

"They do send a message."

* * *

She pushed her fingers into a fist, tight and round. The veins in her hand bulged, blue and predominant. She closed her eyes. The rooms was silent. It was her and her alone. No mother, no father, no brothers, no sisters, no friends, just her; the girl who liked to pretend the room was an alternate dimension. The girl who liked to believe the red punching bag was some soulless fiend.

There was a time limit. If she kept her eyes closed too long, she'd be dragged into a dark corridor. A corner of her mind that was normally left untouched. She could feel things bubbling to the surface, words and images she had suppressed, making there way from the dark side of the moon.

They made a trip around the cerebral cortex. She saw pale fingers. A predominant chin. A malnourished stomach. Her mother's limp corpse. Her eyes flashed open. She exhaled tightly, breathing heavy and rough.

She pumped her arm. Jab. Cross. Hook. Uppercut. Her leaded hand knocked the bag to the ground; broken chains stared back at her. She had found her rage.

* * *

She bounced on her purple sheets, black hair flying high. Unexpected words had seeped from some muscular brunette's pink lips three days ago and she was left with the wreckage, her blonde best friend and a rum bottle. She pressed her feet onto the floor. "Get up." She demanded. "We're going out."

"Where to?" Marissa asked, shooting her friend a narrow glare.

"I don't know." She paused. "The Bait Shop?"

"You mean the place my bastard half-sister works?"

"Seems a little harsh, but yeah." Summer twirled a strand of hair, looking for the bright side. "She's a bartender, might be able to help you continue your experiment with alcoholism."

Marissa rolled her eyes. "I'm sure she wants to help her moronic blonde half-sister maintain a buzz."

Summer raised an eyebrow, toes tapping awkwardly on a floorboard. "Did you just call yourself moronic?" She bit her lower lip, a mound of strawberry scented flesh. "Cause you're definitely not moronic. If you're moronic, then I'm idiotic and I'm not willing to work with that title."

"You know what I mean." Marissa replied, breaking out of her cocoon of pillows. "Everyone wants somebody to hate."

"Like your mother," Summer said softly, standing up.

"More like Kirsten Cohen, crazy secret keeper," Marissa scoffed.

"I don't know. I get it. The whole adoption thing, it's a lot to deal with, pretend you never were pregnant, pretend nothing ever happened, and boom! The guilt is lessened."

"I guess," Marissa shrugged.

Summer pulled on Marissa's arm. "Come on." Summer persisted. "We don't have to go to the Bait Shop, but you can't keep hiding from your mother by laying on my bed watching cheesy romantic comedies."

"That's what we do."

"Lets go to the mall. Lets shop. We're good at shopping. Some might even say we're shopping champions. Heroes of the handbag." She paused. "Bloomingdales is having a sale." She added trying to lure her friend out of bed.

"I don't know."

"They made another Nicholas Sparks book into a movie. We liked _A Walk to Remember." _Marissa looked at her skeptically. "So maybe it comes out in June, but I'm sure there's something romantic playing."

Marissa stared at her friend. "Come on woman. You found out you have a nineteen year-old half-sister, big whoop! My mom left my dad when I was thirteen to run off to Barcelona with some Spanish actor, whose no Benicio. You don't see me hauled up in my room with a bottle of Captain Morgan's."

"I won't be hauled up in your room three years from now. She left three years ago."

"Yeah, doesn't mean it hurts any less, having your mother abandon you."

Marissa stood up. "You realize that Benicio Del Toro's from Puerto Rico, right?"

"Quite honestly," Summer replied, with a heavy sigh. "I could care less."

"Just checking."

* * *

Kirsten Cohen stared at her husband. His bushy eyebrows moved up and down. She ran her feet against the mattress, her legs covered by a dark comforter. She played with her hair, it hadn't been brushed in days. "You said I didn't have to explain."

"I said I wouldn't ask you about it again." He tapped a mound of papers against his leg. "I always thought - well - I always hoped, you'd just tell me on your own."

"When you get married, nothing is private. You have no secrets. Everything is out there for your spouse to see and I didn't know what to say. I didn't even tell Jimmy." She shook her head. "How could I tell you and not tell Jimmy? It just didn't seem right. She wasn't yours. She was his."

"I understand. I do." He rubbed his lips together. "It doesn't matter. None of it matters. I've been practicing law long enough to understand."

"And that scares me," Kirsten said softly. "You're too understanding. I gave up Jimmy's child without his consent. I never even said, 'I think I might be pregnant.' I just hid. I ran away. How can you forgive that?"

Sandy shook his head. "It's not up to me to forgive."

His wife sighed, eyes clamping shut. "I know." She looked up at the ceiling. "But how?" She looked at her husband weakly and stared into his eyes. "How is she? I mean, the records. She's not a heroin addict or anything?"

"No. Not a heroin addict." Sandy shifted his eyes.

"What's wrong?" He shook his head. "We've been married too long for that head shake."

"Nothing. I just think I should talk to her before you do."

"I'm her mother."

"But I'm the one who understands her situation."

* * *

**Reviews? Comments?**

**

* * *

  
**


	5. A Second Chance

* * *

**_Good Girls Played with Dolls_**

**Chapter Five:**

**A Second Chance**

**

* * *

**

Jab. Uppercut. Rabbit punch. Hook. Round house. Side thrust.

Jab. Uppercut. Rabbit punch. Hook. Round house. Side thrust. The punching bag was her playground. She stared at it, poised, sweat rolling down her brow. She clenched her eyes tight – her mind filling with images, all she had to do was pick one. Buffy Summers, the Sunnydale vamps, her father, anything would do – there wasn't much Faith liked these days.

She hadn't heard the door open. She hadn't seen the man with the bushy eyebrows walk in. She was fighting; fighting the imagined, the untouchable, and nothing was going to stop her.

"Faith." The voice called. She pounded her fist into the bag. Jab. Uppercut. He looked at her fighting stance in awe. "Faith!"

She unclenched her fists and watched the motion in the bag before her cease. "Quite a punch you have there."

"Well – I try." Faith muttered sarcastically under breath. "Sandy right?"

"Yeah. Sandy Cohen," he answered. "Nice to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine." Faith replied, wiping the sweat from her face.

"Are you okay?" He asked, walking towards her.

"Yeah. I'm five by five." She looked him square in the eye. "Here to pay me off?"

"No."

"Good." Faith replied, clearing her throat. "I'm just going to save up some money and skip town. You have no reasons to worry about me."

"No."

"No?" She stared at him confused. "What do you mean no?"

"You're not leaving town." Faith raised an eyebrow. "I mean we don't want you to leave. We'd like you to stay. We'd like to get to know you."

"Your wife tell you to say that?"

"No."

"Then why should I listen to you?" She sighed. "You're not my father."

"You're right, I'm not. But my wife would never forgive me if I let you leave and I can assure you, neither would Jimmy Cooper."

Faith bit her lip. "My dad used to tell me he'd never leave. I could hear my parents fight through the wall and afterwards he'd always come into my room and tell me he'd never leave, never ever. He did. It was easier and I can assure you, it'll be easier for your wife and Jimmy Cooper if I left. I'm not the kind of person people love."

"He's flying in."

"What?"

"He'll be here tomorrow. He's coming from Hawaii to see you." Sandy informed her. "Your adopted father may have left, but Jimmy's leaving his home to come and meet you."

"Well – that sure is something, isn't it?" Faith chuckled.

"I looked at your file."

"My file?" Faith questioned. "What do you mean file? Don't tell me my permanent record followed me out of school."

"Your record." Sandy clarified. "With the police."

"Oh that." Faith smirked. "Fun times."

"Indecent exposure," Sandy shook his head. "Sounds like a lot of fun."

She shrugged, "Life happens."

"I've lived a much longer life than you and I've never hugged a preacher, stark naked in the street."

"Maybe you've been missing out."

"Look – there's a lot of things in your file about your mother. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."

"What's there to ask?" She shook her head. "You're a district attorney. If anyone knows the story it's you."

"But she adopted you." Sandy asked. "That part throws me."

Faith smirked. "My dad used to be this big shot, this venture capitalist. He married my mother because he loved her. She married him because he had money. He wanted kids, she didn't, but alas, that could end a marriage and of course she wouldn't want to end a marriage, not when she lived in the lap of drug and alcohol luxury. She couldn't get pregnant, so they adopted me.

"A few bad investments later and he'd lost everything. He lost all that money and no one wanted to hire him with that shoddy portfolio of his. He had no other skills. Lost his temper, got fired from job after job. My mom decided a divorce was in order; she wanted to squeeze that last cent out of him. He wanted custody. She convinced him no one would ever give it to him. In other words she wanted the tax exemption and adoption allowance. He left. Everything fell apart."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She looked at him sternly. "The bitch is dead."

"You don't mean that."

"Maybe not," She shrugged. "But I'm pretty sure I do."

Sandy inhaled sharply. "I'm supposed to invite you to dinner."

"Because the last one went so well."

"This one will be better." Sandy told her. "I promise."

"I haven't had many good experiences with promises."

"Things change."

"Yeah." Faith smiled. "I guess."

* * *

_This was it. She could feel it in her bones, her worse fear being realized, her nightmare coming to life. She wasn't this stupid. She didn't make these mistakes twice. She was twenty-one, behind in college, and this was not the story of her life. They hadn't forgotten to use a condom, at least she didn't think they had and she hadn't forgotten to take a pill, at least she didn't she had._

_She closed her eyes, balled her legs into her chest and took a deep breath. There was another reason her period was late. She was young, somewhat athletic, her period didn't have to follow a set pattern. So what if it had? That didn't matter. Things changed, bodies changed, and there was no way that test would come back positive. No way. Her mother hadn't helped her for this. Had she?_

_She didn't think she could do it again. The cold ultrasound gel. The swelling feet. The mood swings. The isolation. She knew this was different. Deep in her heart she knew she wasn't a high school senior anymore, she knew she wasn't Jimmy Cooper's anymore, she knew her life wouldn't turn into his plan. Sandy was different. Sandy was older, he was in law school, he was amazing. He was everything she could have ever wanted. He would never let her give up on her dreams, but she also knew that if the test was positive they wouldn't be living in a mail truck ever again._

_The front door squeaked open. She sank into the wall behind her. "Shit," she murmured her hand instinctively falling to her stomach._

"_Honey, I'm home." He said as he walked through the front door. She smirked at his attempt at being cute. "Where are you?" He questioned._

_She didn't answer. "Kirsten Nichol, my soon to be bride, where are you?"_

"_Kirsten Cohen." He corrected himself, "That sounds better already."_

_And he was right. It did. She could hear Sandy's hand on the door. She could hear the doorknob shake and even though she wanted to run, she didn't. "There you are." He said with a smile. "Is something wrong?" He questioned, noting her tear soaked cheeks._

_She bit her lip and opened her mouth to speak when he saw the box for the home pregnancy test. "You're not." He told her. "Are you?"_

"_I can't bring myself to look at it." Her head fell into the wall once more, her hand still on her stomach._

_He took the test from the nightstand and flipped it over. "Blue line," he told her._

"_Blue line." She repeated, her eyes welling up with tears._

"_What's that mean?"_

"_It means we weren't too good with our birth control."_

"_Then your?" Sandy questioned._

"_I am." Her heart started beating fast in her chest._

"_You're pregnant." Sandy smiled, "You're pregnant."_

"_I'm pregnant." Kirsten said very unenthusiastically._

"_This is a good thing."_

"_It is?" Kirsten questioned._

"_Yeah. I mean it's not a bad thing, we'll figure it out." He told her. "So what if we move the wedding up a few months. We'll figure all this out. The only thing I do know is that we're not going to make this into a bad thing."_

"_We're not?"_

"_No. We're not." Sandy replied. "You and me will make good parents."_

"_We will?"_

"_We will."_

"_How can you be so sure?" She asked._

"_Because I know me and I know you, and if anyone is going to figure this out, it's us."_

"_Okay." Kirsten told him. "But this place may be bigger than a mail truck, but there's no room for a baby."_

"_I already told you." He said sitting down next to her, "We'll figure it out."_

_

* * *

_

Seth Cohen opened the refrigerator. He plunged his hand into the cool machine, eyes half closed. He sighed. The house was empty – at least it was almost empty. Ryan was off gallivanting some place and his dad had been gone for hours, the only person still around was locked in her room. He didn't know what she was doing, what she had been doing for the past few days, but then again, he wasn't sure if he cared anymore.

He pulled the container of orange juice from the top shelf and turned around, putting the juice on the counter.

"Good morning," he heard in the distance.

He jumped. "Long time, no see." He said turning to face the woman he hadn't seen in days.

"Sorry about that." She said softly, "I've just been thinking."

"Of course. The child you secretly gave up for adoption comes and finds you, a lot to think about."

"Look Seth," She replied, giving him a cup from the cabinet behind her. "I was young."

"Yeah?" He looked at her skeptically. "You were young when you had me too."

"I didn't want to be stuck with Jimmy Cooper for the rest of my life. We had become two different people and I didn't want to spend the rest of my life living the plan he had made for us. I didn't want to be stuck. I didn't want to be the girl that gave up on her dreams because of – because we forgot to use a condom one time. So I did what I thought would be easiest." She bit her lip.

"Not easy. I didn't mean easy. It's just you hear about all these people, these good, bordering on perfect people who can't have kids and I just thought I could help one of them. I thought my mistake. Not mistake, accident, could help make someone's dream come true, but from the sounds of it, that didn't happen."

"No." Seth shook his head. "From the sounds of it, it didn't."

"Seth," his mother looked at him seriously. "I thought I could give her away and forget it. I thought I was doing the right thing, but then I did it and I couldn't forget it. I couldn't let it go and when I got to college, I thought a part of me had died and then I met your father and slowly that part of me came back to life. I learned what it was like to love someone and have everything fall into place and you were a surprise. A great surprise, a surprise I could wrap my head around.

"But after you were born I couldn't help thinking about her and when we couldn't get pregnant again I thought someone was punishing me. And my life with your father and with you has been fantastic, but I always wanted to see her again and tell her that I think I made a mistake. I just never thought I'd get the opportunity and when Ryan came and became a part of the family, I thought someone was giving me a second chance to make up for the daughter I gave away. I just never thought I'd see her again." Kirsten told him.

"That makes sense." Seth said quietly.

"Your dad's inviting her to dinner tomorrow." Kirsten smiled, "And I'd like it if you were welcoming."

"Welcoming?" Seth scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean? I can be welcoming, I mean after all I'm not the one who gave her away in the first place and I am the one who invited her to the other dinner, where you weren't exactly inviting, so maybe you need to take your own advice."

"I can do that." She replied. "If you can invite Marissa Cooper to dinner that is."

"Sure thing." Seth nodded. "And mom?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you." Seth told her. "I just thought I should tell you that."

His mother pulled him in for a hug. "I'm glad you did."

* * *


	6. The Dinner

* * *

**_Good Girls Played with Dolls_**

**Chapter Six:**

**The Dinner**

* * *

Faith's black hair moved when she walked. It bounced from side to side, free flowing. Her dark tank top clung to her chest. She had made up her mind. She wasn't going to be someone she wasn't. That meant no dresses, no pretending. She was going to be Faith Lehane, the person she had been before she was the slayer. There was no way she was explaining that though.

There was no way she was going to inform her birth mother or birth father, that at night while they were asleep she went out and purged the city of its vampires, its demons. Not that Newport Beach was the Hellmouth, it was quiet here, but Faith had a feeling in her bones that it wouldn't stay that way for long.

How long had it been? It felt like it had been forever. She felt like they gave her a watcher when she was two, taught her to fight when she was five, but it wasn't like that. It hadn't been that long. It hadn't been that long at all. Maybe that's one of the reasons slayers didn't live very long – once you were activated, everything sped up.

She was almost there. The long road that passed the Cohen house had almost taken her to her destination. She could see it. Her heart sank. Who would she have been had she been raised there?

Faith saw a familiar face in front of the adjacent gate. The blonde was being sneaky, but she certainly wasn't good at it. "You shouldn't do that you know." She yelled, increasing her speed until she was standing before her, ready to pass off some advice. "One minute you're a seventeen-year-old experimenting with alcohol. The next you're thirty with a kid the booze can't make you care about and some broken fragments you call your life suffocating you with each breath you take."

The blonde didn't know what to say. She sat quietly for a minute before some words fell out of her mouth. "I'm sixteen."

"That's supposed to make your case?" Faith scoffed. "Marissa Cooper, you're certainly gonna have to think up better responses then that in the future. Something like that isn't gonna fly with a cop."

They stared at each other for a moment. Each examined the other. They didn't look alike, not in the slightest. How were they sisters? Marissa squinted. Maybe they did a little, the same facial shape, the same lips. She half smiled at this revelation. "Give it to me." Faith demanded, sticking out her hand. She was no longer looking at her sister. Her eyes were now locked on the house next door. Marissa gave her the flask. Faith's pulse quickened, she took a swig.

"Hey!" Marissa exclaimed. "What about the broken fragments?"

Faith shook her head. "I'm going into a house filled with people I've barely met, people prepared to judge me and for what? For being someone's bastard child. These aren't normal everyday circumstances. This is 90210 shit." She paused. "Besides, not all of us expect to live to thirty anyway."

Marissa wondered what she meant by that, but before she could ask, Faith continued. "What are you worried about Little Miss Muffet? What problems are so bad in your grand life?"

"This used to be my house." Marissa said, sinking into the fence behind her.

"Nice."

"But then, my dad, your dad, our dad, he lost a lot of money. Lost a lot of peoples' money and everything just kind of fell apart."

"Story of my life." Faith muttered. "Do you still see him? Still talk to him?"

"Well – yeah." Marissa nodded.

"My dad lost a lot of money. Left. Left me with a woman he knew deep in his heart was crazy, out of control and I haven't really seen him since. I don't know where he lives. I barely remember him and he was the good one. You know what I do remember?" Faith chuckled. "A parade of hands – well really just two hands. My mother's hands. Her cigarettes, her lighters, her damn gin. She tainted it. Everything. All my good memories, she tainted them."

Faith clutched the flask tightly and scanned the neighborhood. "Your life don't seem so bad." She sighed, throwing the flask into Marissa's old driveway. "Just don't taint your good memories, okay?" She headed towards the Cohen's front door.

Marissa peered over her old fence. Stared at what was once her family home. She stood up straight, shook her head slightly, composed herself and nodded. "Okay." She said the word so quietly that she didn't think anyone could hear it.

Faith did, but then again Faith wasn't exactly normal.

* * *

Jimmy Cooper looked at Kirsten fiercely, as if lightning bolts were going to shoot out of his eyes and knock her dead. She wasn't used to this from Jimmy Cooper, well anyone really, but especially not from Jimmy, who usually looked at her with affection, compassion, unrequited love.

Faith sat across from them. She felt like she should buffer the situation but she couldn't talk. She silently shoved food into her mouth, unaware of what to say. She thought for a moment. "This is really good." She said. It wasn't exactly what she had in mind, but at least it wasn't a lie. Though she honestly had no idea what she was eating.

"Yeah. Kirsten is really good at ordering take-out, aren't you Kirsten?" Jimmy began. Faith was suddenly glad she had taken a drink out of Marissa flask before she chucked it.

"So Faith, where were you living before you came to Newport?" Ryan interjected.

"Boston." Seth answered for her.

"No." Faith shook her head. Why had he done that? Did he not want her to talk? She was probably just being paranoid.

"No?" Seth questioned.

"Ignore him." Marissa suggested. "He just likes to hear himself talk."

"What?" Seth shrugged. "At _The_ _Lets Get to Know Faith Dinner_, where everyone knows nothing, I thought I actually knew the answer to something. I couldn't pass up an opportunity to share my knowledge."

Faith smirked. "Sunnydale."

"Sunnydale?" Ryan questioned.

"Yeah. Sunnydale, California. It's in Santa Barbara County, but I wasn't there very long."

"The Hellmouth." Seth said nonchalantly.

Faith bit her lip. "Excuse me?"

"The Hellmouth. You know, the mouth of Hell." Faith stared at him. "It's just some bogus legend."

"Of course you'd know that." Marissa muttered.

"I'm familiar with it." Faith informed him, sipping her water.

"So anything weird going on Sunnydale? Anything, I don't know, supernatural?" Seth questioned.

"No. It's just your normal everyday town."

"With twelve cemeteries."

"It's accident prone." Faith looked him in the eye. "Doesn't mean demons are causing them."

"Yeah." Seth sighed. "Bogus."

"Why were you in Sunnydale?" Jimmy questioned, he had mellowed out a bit.

"Just visiting some people I know."

"Old friends?" Kirsten asked.

"You could say that."

"Did you know them growing up?" Jimmy continued the question spree.

In her head Faith rolled her eyes. The question spree had begun. "No." She paused. "The internet is a powerful tool. It connects you with people in Thailand, Belgium, and upon occasion even with people in towns like Sunnydale." She wondered if they could tell she was lying. She doubted it; over the years she had seemingly perfected the art of lying. "I only really had one friend growing up." She didn't know why she added that, but there was no taking it back.

"Do you still keep in contact with them?" It was Kirsten's turn.

"The people in Sunnydale?" Faith raised an eyebrow.

"No. Sorry." Her voice was comforting. Faith wasn't used to voices like that. "Your friend growing up. Him or her."

"Michael?" Faith questioned. The name felt weird coming out of her mouth, she hadn't said it in a long time. "Well – um – no I don't actually."

"Why?" Marissa asked. She had known they were going to ask why. Why followed no. She had learned that by now. She had been three once. She just wasn't sure she wanted to explain.

"His father," she began. "Drank. A lot. So did his mom actually, but his dad, he was like my mom, but he got angrier faster." She shrugged. "It was just something you got used to, you know? We were raised around angry drunks, but sometimes his dad would get rough with his mom. You pretend not to hear, but you do. Pretend you're just imagining it, but you're not."

She paused. She was stalling. "I don't really know what happened. I got the rundown from a cop, but I really don't know what happened. His siblings stopped acknowledging my existence. We were thirteen. I was gonna meet him at his house, but before I got there there was a fight."

Faith thought it over for a minute. "His dad was really drunk. Really mad and drunk. It was hard to find work where we lived then. I guess, he threatened her with a gun. His wife, Michael's mother, and Michael had had enough so he tried to break up the fight and in the craziness, the trigger got pressed and the safety wasn't on after all." The table was dead quiet. Faith shrugged. "I guess that's just how it goes."

She didn't know why she had told them that. She was supposed to be being herself, she was supposed to being Faith Lehane and Faith Lehane didn't share things. Faith Lehane was a closed book. Sure she told stories, but not personal ones. Not ones like that. Not ones where the hero dies.

"But it's not supposed to go like that." Kirsten was upset. She felt like a failure, you could see it in her eyes.

"People are people. You can go through the files, pick who seem to be the best parents in the world, but people are people, not paper." Faith shrugged again. "That's just how it goes."

They sat quietly again. "How'd she die?" Jimmy finally spoke up. "Your mother, how'd she die?"

"I was sixteen. Her boyfriend left. She was drunk. I thought I hid the keys. I could have sworn I did, in the toilet tank. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. I can't remember anymore. I just remember hearing them fight from my room, then a door slammed and I fell asleep, she was still there when I fell asleep. It was raining. She went chasing after him in her car. I woke up the next morning and she wasn't there anymore. She slammed into a tree."

"I'm sorry." Jimmy told her.

"Why?" Faith asked. The question was genuine.

"That your mother died."

"Why?" Faith repeated. "I just wish I knew if I hid the keys or not."

She seemed cold. Maybe she was cold. She didn't want to come across that way, but sometimes she couldn't control it. Her tone, her inflection, the way she seemed. She looked him in the eye. "Honestly, Jimmy. Am I supposed to call you Jimmy? Jim? Am I supposed to call you dad?" She paused. "We'll figure that out later. Honestly, Jimmy it's not the vodka-hearted woman that raised me that I consider my mother."

"Who do you consider your mother then?" Kirsten questioned, hoping for some fluff piece about some kind soul that had taken Faith in when her mother was on drunken rampages.

_I don't know. _She thought to herself. _No one. Diane, maybe. _She didn't know what to say. "It doesn't matter." She shrugged. "She's not around anymore either."

She had left the mood of the room dark, dreary. That certainly hadn't been the plan. She smiled and tried to lighten it again, "So what is it I'm eating exactly?" She stabbed the meat with her fork.

* * *

Faith sat with her legs in the pool. She had rolled up her jeans. She leaned back slightly, inhaled and exhaled the night air. It was moments like these that she wished she smoked. Smoking would give her something to do. Smoking would have given her shaking hand something to focus on. She stared off into infinity. After all, that's what they called them, infinity pools. She had never seen one before.

The view was beautiful. The house was beautiful. The guest house with its columns was beautiful. The whole damn neighborhood was quintessential. This was that American dream people talked so much about.

She put two fingers to her lips. Why didn't she smoke again? It wasn't like she planned on living a long life. It wasn't like she didn't have slayer healing. Did it work like that? She inhaled sharply.

"I don't think they get it." She heard someone behind her say.

"Get what?" He sat down next to her, it was Ryan.

"The getting used to angry drunks thing."

"And you do?"

"I know a thing or two about drunk mothers and their drunk boyfriends and having to hide the car keys. Maybe not to the same degree, but I know."

"Oh right." She nodded. "You're not from around here."

"No I'm not." He rolled up his pants and put his feet into the pool.

"So tell me kid Chino." She opened her arms out wide. "How did you end up in the lap of luxury?"

"Kid Chino?" Faith nodded. He laughed. "I stole a car."

Faith looked at him seriously. "Bull!" She declared.

"No really."

"How come I never stole a car?" She muttered.

"I don't think it usually ends up like this."

"Of course not," Faith shook her head. "That would be too easy."

"Sandy took me in and Kirsten eventually agreed." Ryan turned towards her. "My mom took off when they took me to jail."

"He didn't talk tonight."

"Huh?"

"Sandy, he didn't talk tonight. Not really anyway."

"I think he knows he talks too much and he'll act like your father, but he knows he's not your father. He knew tonight wasn't about him. It was about Kirsten, Jimmy, and you of course."

"Of course." Faith smirked. "I'm not used to things being about me."

"It takes time, but you get used to it."

"You'd know."

They stared off into the distance silently. Ryan would open and shut his mouth, trying to say something, something he thought he might regret later. "What?" Faith asked. The sound of his mouth giving rise to her curiosity.

"Why do I feel like you're hiding something?"

"We all hide things Ryan." Faith said, inhaling and exhaling like she was smoking a cigarette, she was making smoke rings in her mind.

"Why do I feel like it's something big?"

She turned to Ryan and stared at him seriously. "Between you and me." Ryan nodded. "Because it is. It may be big, but I promise you, it's not bad."

"Why do I believe you?"

"The Newport air must have gotten to you." Faith looked up at the stars. "Ryan?"

"Yeah."

"That new sister of mine has a drinking problem."

Ryan struggled to say, "I know." Marissa and her alcohol wasn't a topic he liked to dwell on.

"What are we gonna do about that?"

* * *

The springs of the motel mattress dug into her spine. She turned from side to side. She hadn't noticed yet, hadn't felt the bumps that might just be gone by the time she was in the shower. Her eyes were shut tight. She was asleep. The blanket had fallen off the bed, it was in a heap on the ground. She was sweating.

This was how it always was. She was in another time, another place. New York maybe, a subway station. Buffy was there too. They talked. It was cryptic like always. Priests spoke in tongues. Slayers spoke in riddles.

The white shirt that she wore as a nightgown was starting to stick to her body. It wasn't a dream you were easily woken up from. These dreams never were. The knocks on the door hadn't done the trick. The light sneaking in from thin curtain hadn't either. There was just a moment, a moment where suddenly something in your brain clicked and you were awake. You were able to process. You were raring to go.

This happened sometime after nine. Her eyes opened quickly. She didn't need to adjust to the light. She didn't need five more minutes of sleep. She knew what she knew, had learned what she was supposed to learn. This wasn't much, just enough to know that something bad was lurking on the horizon.

She rubbed her back. The knocking on the door persisted.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Reviews? Comments? Maybe I'll get more than one review this chapter. I was updating everything else, thought I might give this a go. Hopefully someone is reading it.

* * *


	7. Fight!

* * *

**_Good Girls Played with Dolls_**

**Chapter Seven:**

**Fight!**

* * *

She threw on a pair of pants and headed towards the door. In her head she yelled, "I'm coming. I'm coming," but she couldn't articulate the words. "Yes." She said grumpily as she opened the front door.

"Hi." The person on the other side greeted. "You're sweating."

"You're observant." Faith retorted.

"Is the air not working?"

Faith shrugged. "We can't all afford to sleep at the Four Seasons."

"Right."

"Any particular reason you're here?" Faith questioned. She didn't mean to sound rude, she was just trying to put two and two together in her head.

"Breakfast." She played with her blonde hair. "I'm supposed to invite you."

"You draw the short straw?" Faith raised an eyebrow.

"No. I volunteered." Marissa informed her. "I thought we could talk."

"About?"

"Whatever." Marissa shrugged. "What do you like?"

Faith thought about it for a moment. _Impaling things. Staking things. Watching vampires turn to dust. Fighting. _She didn't dare say any of that out loud. "I don't really know."

"Everyone likes things."

"True." Faith looked down at her white shirt and frowned. "Let me change okay." She shut the door before Marissa could respond.

"Okay." Marissa muttered, awkwardly shoving her hands into her pockets.

* * *

Marissa didn't know what to make of her. She certainly wasn't a social butterfly, a social caterpillar perhaps, a social moth. She'd never really met anyone like her. In a way she was like Ryan, she'd brood silently, but it was more than that. She had this mysterious air about her.

Driving in the car with her, Marissa expected her to come unclenched. To talk about this and that, but she hadn't. Marissa did most of the talking. "How are you? Are you okay?" Marissa had asked somewhere along the way.

"I'm five by five," was Faith's reply. What did that even mean?

This wasn't a person you asked about their childhood memories. This wasn't a person who seemed to be great at conversations about nothing. What were they supposed to talk about?

"You're trying way too hard there Blondie." Faith informed her as they pulled into a parking spot by the pier.

"What?"

"To get me to talk." Faith paused. "Way too hard."

"I just." Marissa paused, getting out of the car. "Shouldn't we get to know each other?"

"Yeah." Faith nodded. "You think that forcing me to talk and getting to know me are one and the same? I could talk to you about anything and I could tell you a thousand lies. That's not getting to know me." Faith stared out at the ocean. She took a deep breath of salty sea air. "If we talked would you have told me about your little alcohol problem?"

"My alcohol problem?" Marissa looked at her skeptically. She hugged her arms tightly, before opening them wide defensively in a 'why are you picking on me' manner. "It was one drink from a flask."

"It's in your eyes. To other people it might be a flask. To you." Faith made a clicking sound with her mouth. "It's more than that."

Faith played with her hair. Marissa wasn't saying anything. That was like Faith, but certainly not like the woman who had spent the past ten minutes rambling. "Lets go eat breakfast." Faith suggested, waving her hand and ushering her sister up the pier.

* * *

"You remember Summer." Marissa said, showing her to a booth. She was still upset by Faith's assumption.

"Petite thing. Big with the talking." Faith nodded. "I remember."

"Hey." Summer greeted, making room for Faith on her side of the booth.

"Hi." Faith half-smiled.

"What's your favorite breakfast food?" Summer asked.

"Excuse me?" Faith questioned, watching as Marissa pulled up a chair and added it to the end of the table.

"Just curious." Summer shrugged. "I think food preferences can tell you a lot about a person."

"Pancakes."

"Mine too." Summer said happily. "A woman after my own heart. Maybe your mom gave away the wrong child Cohen."

"Say whatever you want, doesn't change the fact that you love me." Seth teased.

"No. See, I don't love little bitches that sail away on boats. I just don't. Especially scrawny ones who act like they've been in love with you for years and years and then write you a letter and leave without any plans of coming home again." Summer paused, playing with the knife on her right. "I don't know what you call that, but that's not love and why would I want to love someone who doesn't love me back? Hmm. We're not all as love sick as you."

"Whatever you say," Seth began.

Summer raised her knife. "Continue talking and I'll go OJ on your ass."

Faith laughed. "What?" Summer scowled.

"You two are a hoot and a half."

"Hoot and a half?" Seth raised an eyebrow.

"It's a phrase." Ryan informed him.

"If I had friends like you in high school, it might have been harder to drop out."

"You dropped out of high school?" Marissa asked.

"The desks. The backpacks. The isolation. The bitches. After a while the diploma just wasn't worth it."

"Starting to see a slight resemblance." Seth said, twirling a straw around his orange juice.

"Have any plans tonight?" Ryan asked her.

"No, but I'm guessing you're about to give me some."

"There's a party." Summer informed her. "At the beach tonight, typical high school thing, but if you're interested. It could fun."

"High school party?" Faith raised an eyebrow. "I'm game."

"Cool. So like eight." Summer continued. "We'll pick you up at your motel." Summer paused. "How long do you plan on staying there?"

Faith shrugged. "Not like I have a lot of options."

"Actually, I think I'm about to be kicked out of the pool house." Ryan told her. Faith stared at him curiously. "I heard Kirsten and Sandy talking. I think they're moving me into the guest room and are going to have you live in the pool house. Until you figure out what you want to do, that is."

"I couldn't put you out like that."

"It wouldn't be putting me out." Ryan looked at her. "Besides, I think it'd be nice for us to get to know you better."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

* * *

Faith looked around the beach house in shock and awe. She smiled slyly. Boys on couches relaxed, wide legged clutching red cups. Girls in bikinis danced. People bumped and grinded. This place was a hot bed for sin. "Rager." She commented.

"Have a lot of these where you're from?" Marissa asked. Her crisp clothes hanging from her body neat and orderly, as if they had been made just for her.

"Like this?" Faith shook her head. "Not exactly."

She didn't know when exactly it had happened, but they had parted ways. She was standing alone against a wall, eyes stuck on a couple in desperate need of a room. When she peeled her eyes away she could see it all. She could see the way Ryan and Marissa awkwardly talked, eyes darting. She could see the way Summer talked to Zach, the way she laughed and looked on intently. Faith was probably the only one who noticed the way her eyes would occasionally wander toward Seth.

"I've never seen you around here before." She heard the words in her ear. The mouth they had come from was right behind her. His legs, his body, his muscular arms, had entered her airspace, disrupted her corner of solitude.

"Probably because I'm not from around here." She turned around, hands in her pockets. She gave the stranger the once over. He was muscular with brown shaggy hair, not exactly her type. Did she have a type? She continued to study him; in the past it had pretty much been whoever she could use to fill her void. She traced his facial features with her eyes; she'd be willing to give him a go.

"I'm Robert." He greeted.

"Faith," she replied, her gaze slowly wandering back to the party. Her eyes locked onto Seth. She saw the way he eyed Summer and Zach, upset by what he saw, or so his eyes seemed to say. The way moments ago they could have been mirror images, each alone in their little corners of the room. She felt like she should go over to him, give him the company he deserved, but her background noise stopped her. Robert was talking about himself, an arrogant bastard; this certainly was the town for him. He played water polo, he had revealed. Faith nodded her head. She still wasn't sure she knew what that was.

Zach and Summer kissed. Faith noticed Seth's neutral expression turn sour, she watched him wander out towards the beach. She focused her attention back to Robert. "I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to cut you short."

"Why?" He asked confused, slightly outraged, he wasn't used to hearing things like that.

Faith wasn't sure of what to say, but then the rambling habits of her half-brother came to her rescue. She put a hand on his forearm and looked seriously in his eyes. "I just don't date guys that shave their chests."

By the time she made it to the beach, Seth was being harassed. From the sounds of it, this was a common occurrence. "Hey!" She called, heading to his rescue. They ignored her. She grabbed the back of one of the boy's shirts and pulled him off Seth. "I said hey." She repeated.

"I don't think this is any of your business." He said, turning back to Seth.

"Really Faith, you should stay out of this." Seth added in an awkward mumble.

"I think it is." Faith retorted, ignoring his request. "Let him go."

"What are you going to do about it?" He had grabbed hold of Seth once again.

Faith cracked her knuckles, pulled the brunette off Seth, made a fist, and then plunged it forward. Her fist made contact with the boy's face; he fell to the ground with a thud.

The boy who had been blocking Seth from the front released his hold of him. He stared down at his friend, unsure of what to do. "Dude, my mom told me never to hit a girl."

"Too bad that rule doesn't go both ways." Faith said her leaded right hook sending him too to the ground.

She looked up; a few familiar faces were standing at the beginning of the shoreline. They looked at her in surprise. Of course they did. She wasn't supposed to be able to throw a punch like that. She turned her eyes to Seth's assailants once again; they were still on the ground. The brunette looked as though he might lose consciousness. "Remember next time you mess with Seth Cohen, you mess with me."

She unclenched her fist and headed toward the cluster of faces staring at her in awe. "That was." Seth began, excitement running through his veins. "Amazing! Wasn't that amazing?" He asked his friends. "Where did you learn to do that? You dropped those guys faster than Ryan."

"Well Krav Maga," she lied. "Pretty powerful stuff."

"Looks like I got myself a new protector."

"That was pretty impressive." Ryan told her.

"Really impressive." Summer added. She was alone. Marissa nodded.

"Thanks." She replied. "I guess."

"So Summer," Seth asked. "Where'd Zach go?"

"Home." She replied.

"Have a fight?"

"No, Cohen." She informed him. "Keep the questions up and I'll be attempting to imitate your sister."

"I'd like to see you try."

"Well, I think the party's over, don't you?" Ryan asked, looking at the two bodies in the sand.

The group nodded.

* * *

"Don't you think it's a little weird?" Seth asked opening the bedroom door. His eyes grew wide, somewhat surprised by the scene on the bed, the constant lip smacking. Ryan and Lindsay broke apart. "Hi Lindsay." Seth greeted awkwardly running a hand through his hair.

"Seth." She said, straightening her back.

"What's a little weird?" Ryan questioned arching an eyebrow.

"Faith. She's been living in the pool house a week and every night like clockwork, she sneaks out under the cloak of darkness."

"She's an adult. She can do what she wants." Ryan shrugged.

"That's not the point. The point is – what could she be out doing until the wee hours of the night everyday?" Seth asked. "And why is she so sneaky about it?"

"I could think of a few things."

"You're really not the least bit concerned?"

"I don't know Faith well enough to be concerned."

"That's very unlike you." Seth sighed. "Well then you're the only one. We're concerned."

"Who's concerned?"

"Marissa and I." Seth informed him. "And we have a plan so lace up your shoes and get a move on it."

"What are we going to do?"

"Follow her." Ryan looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Do I have to remind you how stealth I am?"

"No. You don't." Lindsay spoke up. "We know, very."

"She gets it."

"What if she's just going to the Bait Shop?"

"I got a key from Alex. If she's there after hours we'll find her."

"Alex trusted you with a key?" Ryan asked. " Wait - didn't she break up with you?"

"The key was the consolation prize." Seth muttered.

"What are your parents going to say about us being out all night? You haven't exactly been the model son lately."

"They think we're going camping."

"We don't camp."

"We could camp." Seth retorted. "Besides there's a tent in the garage that's never been used. Dad thinks it's a good idea."

"What are we really going to do after we're done stalking?" Ryan raised an eyebrow.

"We could actually camp." Seth shrugged.

"Do you know anything about camping?"

"No, but Summer swears she does. She was in the scouts. Troop Beverly Hills or something."

"Troop Beverly Hills?" Ryan questioned.

"Yeah. You know. Shelley Long. Rilo Kiley."

"Who's Rilo Kiley?"

"Rilo Kiley is not a person. It's a band. Jenny Lewis is the person." Seth clarified.

"I'm confused." Ryan told him.

"We could always just camp on Summer's floor or something."

"Doesn't Summer kind of hate you right now?" Lindsay asked.

"So she says, but for some reason she really likes Faith."

"Go figure." Ryan sighed. "I'll get ready."

"That's the spirit!" Seth said with enthusiasm. "Lindsay?"

"As much as I'd like to see this play out." Lindsay began, "I'm going to have to pass." She kissed Ryan goodbye. "I'm sure it'll be a great story though."

"I guess it's just the core four then." Seth smiled. "Like old times."

* * *

"This is all your fault Cohen!" The petite girl exclaimed, her wet clothes clinging to her body.

"My fault? My fault?" Seth questioned, outraged by the accusation. "I'm not the one who lost her."

"Yeah, but you're the one who thought you saw her running across a cemetery. Who runs across cemeteries?" Summer shot him a glare. "And if people did run across cemeteries – why the hell would the do it when the sprinklers were on?"

"I don't know." Seth played with the keys in his pocket. "But that was her."

"So you say." Summer huffed, hastily tapping her foot on the concrete. "Just hurry up and open the door!"

"There you go Princess." Seth murmured sarcastically, holding the door open for the three people behind him. "Now clean up and we'll go look for her again."

"I vote we stay here. If she's just been coming to the Bait Shop we'll find out this way." Summer smirked. "Besides, I've never been in here this late before. It's nice feeling rebellious. All those in favor say I."

Seth opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a syllable out Ryan and Marissa spoke up in unison, "I."

"Oh come on!" Seth whined.

"You lost, get over it." Summer said walking down the stairs. "You should be used to losing by now."

* * *

Summer sat, legs hanging off the bar. Her lower half in constant motion – she would stop her feet before they hit the wood behind them. Seth had figured out the stereo, and as per usual was playing his beloved Death Cab. Summer tried to frown, but she couldn't. The music drifted into her ears.

_So this is the new year_

_And I don't feel any different_

_The clanking of crystal_

_Explosions off in the distance_

This CD was part of the _Seth Cohen Starter Pack_ that he had managed to give her last year sometime after the dreaded Chrismukkuh incident. It wasn't until sometime after he had left that she had come to like it and she wasn't going to admit it to him now. He looked at her and smiled, she turned her head. "Want to dance?" He asked, walking to her.

"Yeah," She nodded. "Just not with you."

"Come on!" He offered his hand. "You can pretend I'm Zach."

She studied his body and smirked. "Might be a little hard." She jumped off the bar and accepted his hand. "If you step on my feet – the dancing is through."

"Yes, your highness." He said and they began twirling around the empty dance floor. After a number of minutes she stepped on his feet. "Hey!"

She stopped, released hold of his hands, and looked up. She heard something. "Seth, did you lock the door?" He didn't respond. He heard it too. "Seth!"

"I did." He nodded and thought it over a minute, "I could have sworn I did."

The door began to open. Marissa and Ryan looked up in alarm as well. "It's probably just Faith." Seth suggested.

Summer shook her head, as the stranger came inside. "Not Faith."

"We're closed." Seth yelled. He didn't listen. "We're closed!" Seth and Ryan yelled in unison. The man headed toward the stairs. "Are you deaf? They said we're closed!" Summer added and watched wide-eyed as another man joined the stranger. They were faster than she expected – as haggard as they looked.

They didn't speak. They barely made any noise. She felt like she was watching an old zombie movie. The walking undead coming toward her – granted, the very fast, the very human walking undead. With each step they took, she took one back, but there was only so much room and before she knew it she was flesh against the stage. Her pulse quickened as she tried to pull herself up and quickly away, but before she could the first stranger's hand was on her neck, pulling her in closer. His teeth came unclenched, she took it back, not very human after all. Her scream could have broken glass.

His grip tightened. She closed her eyes, held the air in her lungs as long as she could, and prayed. This wasn't real. This was a nightmare. A dream. She had fallen asleep on the stage. Creatures like this were fantasies, fairytales, far off dreams; she shouldn't have read Dracula, shouldn't have watched that Dark Shadows DVD. Time was moving slowly. She couldn't judge how fast or slow things were going. It didn't speed up again until she heard Cohen's voice. "Get off of her." Her eyes opened. He tried to move the thing's hand. Tried to pull him off her. "I said, get off of her!" He said louder - voice slightly trembling.

As requested his hand fell from Summer's neck and he turned toward Seth. "Not your smartest idea." The vampire proclaimed. Seth stared at his fangs, both intrigued and terrified. Summer made up for lost breaths and watched Seth try to defend her. Save her. It didn't work. Of course it didn't work. Lanky boys attempts to save girls from blood sucking fiends never worked too well. He threw Seth against the wall. Her pulse quickened once again. "Cohen!" She yelled, he didn't move. She could see Ryan in a fighting stance in the corner doing a better job of holding off the other vampire, but a better job wasn't exactly good enough. The music came into Summer's ears again.

_And I am waiting for that sense of relief_

_I am waiting for you to flee the scene_

_As if you held in your hand the smoking gun _

_And on the floor lay the one you said you loved._

She should have listened to Seth. They should have cleaned up and hit the road again. The one time Cohen was right. Her eyes prepared to snap shut again. "I think you want to take this up with me." She heard - the snaky voice of the woman the whole night had been about.

"Slayer." The vampires said in a tone that matched her own. They turned away from the core four. Summer watched Seth's eyes flutter open. Summer ran toward him, crouched down next to him, and laid a hand on his back. Her throat hurt. "Slayer," Seth repeated distantly.

Faith rushed down the stairs, jumping over the railing before she got to the basement floor. "I believe this is between you and me." She turned her head, bared her neck. "Who wants the first bite?"

She ran towards the original one. Ryan came to help her, to defend her. She grabbed his hand before he came into the mix. "I've got this."

"Slayer." The original vampire repeated.

"Everyone knows slayer's blood is the greatest." The other one nodded.

"Prepared to test that theory?" Faith teased, punching the first. The second grabbed her and lead her to a wall. He picked her up by her neck and pinned her to the wall. She wiggled her legs. Moved her right leg and kicked him in the head, he fell to the ground. She landed on her feet. The original vamp charged toward her and with a roundhouse kick she sent him to the ground.

The second picked her up and threw her through the glass window of the club's private room. The gang looked up anxiously as their hero, their savior had disappeared. The two vampires came toward them. Seth tried to sit up, but his head was too heavy. He heard Faith, heard her huff and walk through the door. She had a broom in her hand. "Is that all you got?" She broke it in half. Ryan noted the shards of glass in her arm. The first vampire punched her and she barely flinched, barely took a step back, she turned the broken broom and plunged the sharp end into his heart. He turned to dust before their very eyes.

The second vampire came forward, grabbed the half of the broom handle from Faith's hands and threw it into the distance. He grabbed her. She fought him off. It became a duel. She got one step forward and he took her two steps back. It was a tango, a dance, and before it finished Faith was on the ground. Her back was flat on the checkered floor. He pulled at her legs. Her hands were clutched on the bottom of a barstool. She broke off one of the legs, kicked the vampire off her, and without the use of her legs jumped to her feet. "You vamps," she chastised. "Always think you've got the upper hand." She pushed the vampire; lead him to a wall, grabbed him by the neck, and held him against it, his legs dangling down. "Are you ever going to the learn?" He tried to kick himself free, but she dodged his advances. "Nuh-uh-uh." She teased, picking up the leg of the barstool and watching the vampire before her turn to dust. "Pity," she sighed.

The group stood silently. Summer opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was too sore. She was still on the ground next to Seth. "What the hell?" Marissa asked.

"It's complicated." Faith shrugged, she pulled a shard a glass from her arm and some blood flowed from the wound.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked.

Faith smirked. "I'm five by five." She bit her lip and joked. "The invasion has begun."

"What does that mean?" Ryan asked seriously.

"Nothing." Faith sighed and shook her head. "Just … nothing."

Marissa watched the blood flowing down Faith's arm. "What are you?" She asked.

Seth managed to sit up. "Slayer," he said quietly, his head falling into the wall behind him.

"That's what they say." Faith shrugged. "Get a good night's sleep." She suggested before leaving.

"That was," Summer managed to say.

"Uh-huh." The group agreed.

Summer mimicked Seth and fell into the wall. "Thanks," she told him, grabbing at his hand.

"Anything for you Roberts." He said, accepting her hand. Marissa and Ryan joined them. The group sighed in unison, looking at the slight destruction of The Bait Shop. Summer heard the music again.

_I need you so much closer._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:**

Two reviews last chapter. I guess I'm moving back up again. I have my fingers crossed for three this chapter. Any takers?

Thank you both! I look forward to more of your feedback. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

* * *


End file.
